


Through the White Night

by notunbroken



Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 20:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17066429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notunbroken/pseuds/notunbroken
Summary: Mike Tao’s favorite holiday tradition brings strife to the Murder Room… two years in a row.





	Through the White Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on a prompt from @writing-is-ruining-my-life at Tumblr: “Are you hiding the mistletoe?”
> 
> Christmas fluff in honor of FU, Sharon Raydor is Alive day 2k18. Long live the queen.

_Major Crimes Division Christmas Party - 2014_

“Andy?” He freezes at the sound of Sharon’s voice, too-sweetly stretching his name into a question. “What are you doing?”

From his position, smashed against the whiteboard and reaching upward with a yardstick, he can’t claim nonchalance.

Instead, he hedges. “Erm… nothing?”

_So much for sneaking off from the party._

He looks over to find her eyes lifting to the plant material hanging on a notch above the board. “Are you…” Her lips twist. “Are you trying to hide the mistletoe?”

Andy had caught sight of the uninvited decoration earlier, when he and Ricky were smuggling supplies through the Murder Room. Not wanting to draw attention to it, he’d waited until everyone else was busy in the break room before coming back to put it in its rightful place.

“No, I’m tossing it, actually.” Another poke at the bunch leaves it dropping to the floor. He doesn’t want to follow up their (okay, _his_ ) Nutcracker fiasco by pointing out there’s only one couple around to make use of the tradition. So he says, “Look. I’m happy for Provenza. I am. I just don’t need to _see_ it, y’know?”

Sharon’s answer is a neutral hum.

He leans over, picks the mistletoe off the tile. “How do we always end up with this crap hanging in here, anyway?”

“Because Mike thinks it’s _hilarious_.” The dryness in her voice would do Death Valley proud.

“Oh, well, good for him,” Andy grumbles, examining the small white berries. “I can’t believe this isn’t some kind of sexual harassment thing.”

“We’re off duty, so that somewhat reduces the policy’s relevance.” It’s amazing, how Sharon can snap back into IA mode. With that in mind, he fixes her with a flat look that leaves her laughing as she says, “Plus, it just happened to _appear_ there. It isn’t as if anyone is holding it over their own head and inviting something they shouldn’t be.”

She should know better, trotting out a detailed example of rule-breaking around him. “Oh, so what if I did _this_?” He sticks the sprig’s twiggy end underneath the suspender at his shoulder.

Her giggles strengthen, leaving her nearly doubled over. As Andy’s chest warms, she steadies herself with a hand on his arm. “Mm, yeah, someone’s probably going to have to write you up for that.”

“Ah, interesting. And who here has that kind of authority?”

Her smile turns sly as her gaze travels toward his mouth, to the mistletoe, and back again. Something like mischief flashes when her eyes meet his. “That might depend—”

“Mom!” The shout sounds from down the hallway. Sharon takes a smooth step backward, dropping her arm as she goes. She spins around just as a frowning Ricky appears. “I can’t find the extra cookie tray.”

“Oh.” Her answer is tight, paired with her now-unoccupied hand brushing hair from her face. “I moved it to the conference room next to my office,” she nods in that direction, “on the table.”

Ricky’s eyes narrow as he picks up on his mother’s pique. But, then, he points at Andy. “Hey, is that what I think it is?”

“It’s, um,” he pulls the decoration free, mumbling, “Mike’s yearly holiday joke.”

“Uh- _huh_.” Ricky crosses his arms, not quite managing to hold back a smile. “What are you crazy kids doing in here, away from the party, with _mistletoe_?”

“Just cleaning up.” Andy sends the greenery arcing into the nearest trash can. With that taken care of, he tips forward, recapturing Sharon’s attention. “I could go for more punch, how about you?”

Her face is an intriguing shade of red. “Mmhmm, yes. Yep.” She points toward the conference room and delivers a firm, “Don’t forget your cookies, Richard,” on her way down the hall.

———

_Major Crimes Division Christmas Party - 2015_

“Andy.”

Otherwise paying attention to a Sanchez family story, Andy processes the warning in Sharon’s tone a half-second before she hooks her arm around his. He has to switch hands before his punch sloshes out of its cup. “What—” She ignores the beginning of his question as she tugs him into motion. “Where are you—”

“I need your help with something.”

Sadly, there’s no tease in her explanation.

“Oh-kay?”

Since last Christmas — when she first moved him out of the Murder Room like this — it’s become more common for her to bodily direct him to where she wants him to be. It just tends to happen in settings with more _potential_ than their squad holiday party.

As she forces him from the office, Andy asks, “You can’t use your words, Sharon? You gotta manhandle me?”

“Just…” She nods forward. Her cheeks are pinkish, and the crock-pot full of mulled wine in the Murder Room is a likely suspect. Then again, so is her obvious agitation.

Sharon pivots at the break room, pushing him through the door ahead of her. A few steps in, she stops.

“There.” He follows the line of her pointed finger upward, until he finds a telltale gathering of green leaves and white berries tucked between two ceiling tiles.

Andy chuckles, leans toward her. “Exactly what kind of help do you need here, babe?”

She’s unfazed by his charm, and the term of endearment has her pinching his side. “I _need_ for you to take it down, because I can’t reach it and I don’t want a certain pair of precariously situated young men to find it and use it as a pretext to make bad decisions.”

“So you hauled me in here to be your accomplice in mistletoe theft?” He stares into his punch. “Here I thought you were making up for last year.”

“Making up for—” Sharon’s eyes widen as she breaks off her own question with a shake of her head. “I wasn’t going to kiss you last year.”

“Uh-huh. _Sure_.” He smirks. “Because I’m pretty familiar with your approach face these days, and—”

She presses her finger against his lips, stilling them. “If you’re smart, you’ll stop talking and just take the damn thing down.”

Despite the half-affectionate contact, her serious captain voice makes an appearance. It’s a pitch he doesn’t argue with.

 _Generally_ , at least.

“Yes ma’am,” he mumbles, offering his cup to her for safekeeping.

With his hands freed, he pulls a chair into place. A squinting guess at the distance to the ceiling leaves him dragging a table over, too. Two steps up bring him close to his goal. Then the table’s unbalanced legs wobble beneath him. _Great_.

Though her own feet are planted on the steady floor, Sharon draws a sharp breath. “Please don’t fall.” She must see his rolling eyes, because she adds a crisp, “Your insurance bills are already outrageous and I don’t want to have to tell EMS what you were doing up there.”

“Hey, thanks, _honey_.” With a stretch, Andy’s fingers find the mistletoe’s leaves. It doesn’t budge. “I’ll hand it to Tao, he got it up here pretty good this year.” Still, a firm downward yank pulls it free. He carefully crouches, then sits on the tabletop, waving the twigs in triumph.

Sharon sighs, her shoulders slackening as she closes the distance between them. She holds out her hand for the offending plant. “Thank you, Andy. I just don’t…” Her brow quirks as he lifts it out of her reach.

“Hey, I did a heroic, noble thing, here.” She snorts as her eyes flit upward, leaving him resorting to a cliche as he straightens his arm overhead. “To the victor goes the spoils.”

“Hmm,” she deposits his punch nearby and pulls closer, trailing her fingers along his suspenders. Her breath is warm on his cheek when she murmurs, “That _does_ seem fair…”

Andy smooths his free hand around her hip, anticipating the brush of her lips on his own.

Instead, in a blink, Sharon surges up onto her toes, swiping the mistletoe from his slackened grip. She’s retreated a few steps by the time sense catches up with him. Her devilish smile makes the maneuver all the more crooked, especially when her tongue traces behind her teeth.

“Cheater,” he growls.

Her shoulders lift. “All’s fair.”

Given that they broached the big word a few weeks ago, Andy doesn’t hesitate in asking, “Love? Or war?” Rather than answer, she taps the greenery against his nose. He winces. “That thing’s poisonous, you know.

“Only if you _eat_ it,” she laughs.

“Well,” he sighs, keeping a fake serious facade as he moves to scoot off the table. “Now that I know you care enough about me to shove a deadly plant in my face…”

She stills him with a firm hand on his shoulder and a half-smile tilting her lips. “Ah-ah. You’re not leaving yet.”

God help him, Sharon’s stunning when she throws her weight into flirting. It’s one of the gifts in being close to her, seeing her relaxed enough to go without weighing every word she says. Her natural grace is crushing.

Even so, Andy gets the sense she’s two or three steps ahead of him. “I’m not?”

“Now,“ she turns the mistletoe in her hands. “I believe we established a good use for this?”

Something about the mischief woven through her precise words leaves him tensing. “Uh…”

She follows his concept from last year, pulling his suspender up from his shoulder and tucking the decoration in before letting it snap back into place.

“There. I like this _much_ better.” Her eyes go wide over a genuine, uncontrolled, laughing snort. She claps her hand beneath her nose, barely sneaks out, “Andytoe!” before crumbling into her amusement.

 _Yep, chock full of grace_. Once she’s half-recovered, he kisses the corner of her mouth, chuckles, “You’re a real weirdo sometimes.” After recapturing her attention, he meets her smile with his lips. “And I love you.”

Sharon closes her eyes, humming into the last of her laughter. “I love _you_.”

When she looks at him again, the warmth and affection in her gaze is almost enough to shove him over. He can’t help but curl her against his chest, to skim her lips with his. He means for it to be quick. But all plans fall away when she cups his face in her palms. Her mouth curls upward as it glides along his, over and over, with the recent memory of her laughter further sweetening the contact. She wins every scrap of his focus, every nerve in his—

“ARGH!”

The sound sends Andy snapping away, turning toward the hallway, catching his partner’s quickly — well, quickly for him, at least — retreating form.

“God _damn it_ , Michael!” Provenza’s yell echoes off the walls as he rounds the corner into the office. “I am going to _kick_ your _ass_!”

“Oh. Great.” Sharon’s forehead lands on Andy’s shoulder. She goes firm under his hands. “ _That’s_ a conversation I want to walk into.”

Setting aside that everyone in there knows they’re dating, or together, or _whatever_ , he nudges his nose into her hair. “Well, we _could_ just leave.”

She pulls back, fixing him with a narrow glare. “Yes, because disappearing less than an hour into the party sends a healthy message.”

As Andy considers a gentler version of _fuck a healthy message_ , motion at the edge of his vision pulls his attention out to the hallway. There, Mike uncasually strolls past the windows, wearing a wide grin, his hands forming two thumbs-up.

A strangled noise leaves Sharon’s throat when she notices him. “Okay, we need to get out of here.” At Andy’s answering smile, she clarifies, “Back to the _party_.”

His mood plummets as he reaches for his cup. “If you say so.”

“I do.” She tips forward, capturing his bottom lip between hers for a flash before turning to free the mistletoe. “I think we’re done with this, hm?”

“Sure.”

She brushes her hands together after dropping the troublesome cutting into the trash. “And for the record, Andy…”

“Huh?”

“ _You_ were going to kiss _me_ last year, before Ricky barged in.” Her eyes crinkle with a flattened smile. “Not the other way around.”

 _If I’d had the guts_. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Oh, I _know_ I’m right.” She pulls him back toward the office. Gently, this time. Over her shoulder, she adds, “You think I’m irresistible.”

There’s no arguing that.


End file.
